


angels greet with anthems sweet

by pistolgrip



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Party, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-12 19:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12966708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: If Quatre had the choice, he wouldn't have dressed up as Santa Claus for whatever mess of a Christmas party the Eternals were hosting, but nothing is ever really in his favour, anyway.





	angels greet with anthems sweet

“You can’t say you _don’t_ fucking hate this, are you fucking kidding me, no fucking concealed weapons either, these boots are absolutely fucking big enough to hide at least _one_ dagger—”

Quatre feels what may be the biggest betrayal of his life when even his own _sister_ can’t fight back a smile. “It’s Christmas,” she says, like that explains fucking _anything_ , “and Uno wants us all to take a break.”

“Did he have to fucking _dress us up?”_

This is, in his opinion, possibly the stupidest thing he’s ever had to wear in his entire life. Esser at least doesn’t seem bothered by her own outfit, and neither do half the Eternals that are milling around, waiting for the rest to show up. It’s a nice idea in theory, but costume parties are uncomfortable enough for him, _at least have the decency to keep them around Halloween and not Christmas_ —

“You look cute,” says Esser, hiding a smile behind her hand. “If not a bit angry, unfortunately.”

“You know what’s unfortunate?” he grits. “You’re practically wearing pajamas that just happen to be Christmas colours and you get to call yourself a damn Santa’s Helper, and I have to be fucking _Santa Claus_ himself _._ Whose idea was this? I’m the least fucking Santa Claus-ish person I know. Why isn’t _Okto_ Santa? He's a fucking tree trunk of a man, he could handle this.”

“He made the costumes for the Eternals, so he gets to choose. And he chose to be a Christmas tree, I suppose.”

“And Uno? What’s _that_ Pringles man's excuse? He _made_ us do this entire thing. I don’t fucking get it. At least Siete is the Grinch, _something_ makes sense around this damn place,” he huffs, pacing around and dropping into the chair that Esser dragged him to in the first place—it happens to be Santa’s armchair, and she sits on the armrest and fiddles with Quatre’s Santa beard.

“Don’t mess it up.”

He sneezes. “And what’s all _this?”_ He sweeps his arms in a wide motion to the camera aimed right at him and his armchair, to the ridiculously large Christmas tree Uno had somehow procured, to the gifts that lie under it. The twinkling lights are _nice_ , he supposes, but the fact that he’s been made Santa ruins the entire illusion. “What, are we having an Eternals Christmas photo shoot?”

“I hear Gran’s coming around, at least. Quite a few of us had invited him.” Esser’s fussing with his hat now, and Quatre swats her hand away half-heartedly. “So it might be a little crowded in here soon, if he brings even half of his crew.”

“Great, alright, it’s a Skydom photo shoot. Just what I needed.” Even with that said, he settles in his chair and stretches. It’s at least not the worst thing he could be doing, sitting around in a comfortable chair, and when Gran comes in with his crew most of them have the decency to make regular conversation with him, recognizing him immediately.

The one saving grace about this Christmas party of sorts is that he’s confined to this armchair and that most people only want to take one picture, at most. Quatre seems to be Santa purely for the novelty of what Uno jokingly boasts as “The Angriest Santa in the Entire Skydom”, so he doesn’t have to change most of his demeanor for this. Maybe Uno really _did_ know what he was doing.

A few of the younger ones come up to him to take pictures, so he can’t _really_ find it in himself to be mad. They remind him of the kids back in Stardust Town, all bright eyes and full of Christmas spirit, and although all of them recognize him immediately, he’s willing to play along and take pictures with them and chat. But _only_ them. None of the adults get a pass.

There’s a bit of a lull in the party when Six finally shows up, creeping in from the edges of the party. Quatre wouldn’t have noticed him slinking in if Song hadn’t come in beside him with a hand in the crook of his arm, smiling about something or another while elegantly dragging him out of wherever the hell he’s been hiding all day. Tch.

First Six gets to skip half of this party, and now he doesn’t even have to dress up in a ridiculous costume like Uno’s forced the rest of the Eternals to do? (To be fair, everyone else seems at least content with their costumes; it’s just _him_. Because of course, life hates him.) Six is in probably the most casual clothing he’s ever seen on him ever, with a big ol’ ugly Christmas sweater and lights strung around him, blinking obnoxiously. Most of his face is hidden behind a thick scarf and a Santa hat drooping on top of his head—he’s basically all covered up, looking _relatively_ normal compared to the Eternals, and Quatre groans in frustration.

It’s apparently enough for the people in his direct vicinity to look in his direction, and it draws the attention of Song, too, her eyes lighting up with something mischievous. She nudges Six, whispering and pointing to him, and when Six turns, he freezes. Oh boy.

He can’t tell what the look on Six’s face is like; all he can see is that his eyes widen, something incredulous in them, and he takes a tentative step forward. Song sits back and crosses her arms to watch, and Quatre is about to bite back— _Laugh it up, schmuck, I gotta be Santa Claus and take pictures with apparently the entire population of Phantagrande while you get to be warm and cozy._ Six looks like he wants a fucking fight, like Quatre’s about to be made fun of at worst and challenged to an impromptu battle at best. He at least thought Six would have the decency to _not_ try and destroy Santa Claus while there’s at least a few children present, but he’s not about to back down, so he stands up, arms akimbo—

“Santa?”

Six’s voice is so quiet and full of wonder that Quatre stops dead in his tracks. _What?_ His scarf falls a little bit below his nose, exposing his mouth, and Quatre sees that it’s open, and he reads the rest of Six’s face, and—holy _shit_ , he’s in awe. Six of the Eternals is in fucking _awe_ about Santa Claus.

He glances with panic over Six’s shoulder to where Esser and Song are now standing; Esser with an eyebrow raised in curiosity, Song with a warning look on her face, making a gesture for him to step back.

She mouths something to him. _Don’t be an asshole._ Oh. What?

Wait. Right. Step back into the chair. Wait. No. Six is still looking at him. Awkwardly, with his hands still on his hips, he leans a little bit back and tries to purposefully lower his voice so it’s unrecognizable. “Uh—Ho, ho, ho. Welcome to… Christmas, young man.”

Behind Six’s back, he sees Esser cover half her face with her hand.

“I… see,” Six says, now kind of confused.

Quatre feels a pang of _something_ at the way his face falls, even the tiniest bit; he reads the way Six’s face was so full of expectation, so unexpectedly childish and pure, that it reminds him of the children he took care of in Stardust Town around Christmastime too, before the older kids of the ragtag city got together to make their own presents and celebrations for everyone.

It’s that childlike wonder he sought to protect, wasn’t it?

He weighs his options.

Ah, fuck it. ‘Tis the season.

“C’mon now, Six? Where’s the spirit?” Quatre wills his voice as low and gruff and round as he can bring it, and he flops back down onto his chair. He pats his thigh and motions towards him. “Sit, sit!”

The look is back on Six’s face, whatever confusion melting away to restrained and cautious joy. His eyes move down to where Quatre is patting his leg, and looks back up at him. “Sit?”

“Sit!” He says again, laughing heartily. Alright, it might be a little much, but if he’s anything like the kids in Stardust Town, then he’ll eat it right up.

“I am... not as light as an average child.”

“Between you and me, Okto already came by,” Quatre says in a stage whisper. “Heaviest Christmas tree I’ve ever had in my lap in all my years.”

Six’s eyebrows furrow, searching his face again, taking light steps towards him. He sits just on top of his knee, practically hovering, not quite trusting what he’s seeing. “...How do you know my name?”

It would be more comfortable for the two of them if he’d just sit in his lap like a normal person, but the experience so far has been like pulling teeth, except Six is pulling his own teeth out right in front of him. He can work with this, though. “Santa knows the name of _every_ boy and girl.”

“...Even the bad ones?” Six’s voice is barely above a whisper; he probably doesn’t even realize that his hand is back up to his scarf, pulling it up over his face as he hunches back down into it. Quatre’s gotten himself into a bit of a mess here, maybe a little more than he anticipated—he knows there’s _some_ deep-seated issues here that Quatre’s not equipped to handle normally, let alone on Christmas.

They’ve fought before. Quatre’s got a temper and Six is built to retaliate, and the words they’ve traded in the heat of battle aren’t the nicest. But right now, with an unknowing Six barely in his lap, talking to Santa and not him—he gets the impression that both of them never say anything but the truth to each other.

It’s gotta be worth something.

“Especially the bad ones,” he says, and it comes out as more of his own voice than he expected. “Sometimes being reminded that someone is thinking of you is more than enough.”

Six says nothing; around them, the party has picked up again, laughter and warmth evident from every guest. The lights on his sweater are still blinking and cast a pensive glow on his face, still buried in the scarf, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes focused.

“It is kind of you to say so, Quatre.”

He’s not entirely surprised to hear his own name, but it still throws him for a loop. Relaxing slightly, he lets out a soft snort. “When’d you figure out I wasn’t Santa?”

“Santa was always a human in stories; being this close to you makes your hidden Erune ears prominent under the hat.” His words are matter-of-fact, and there’s no room for budging in them. He really, absolutely, _genuinely_ believes in Santa, and who is Quatre to take that away from him?

“Always with the damn ears, giving me away,” he says, no heat in it. “Look, y’wanna take a picture with Erune Santa? I know I’m not the real deal, but for whenever you meet the real human Santa or whatever.”

Six _actually_ takes a moment to consider that. “I’ll have to decline. But thank you for humouring me. It was rather unexpected.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘tis the season. Go have fun,” Quatre says, lopsided smile on his own face. “Go eat some food, you bony ass. And get off my damn lap.”

He thinks that whatever huff of breath Six just let out, he could probably call it a laugh.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> me looking at pictures of six while crying: What Child Is This Who Laid To Rest On My Lap Is Sleeping  
> merry christmas, ari ♥ these two are notoriously kind of hard to write for me, but i hope i did them justice for you!  
>    
> (ari, sitting literally right in front of me, with both our laptops and tablets out, drawing granblue art:  
> "i want an event where quatre dresses up as santa claus because he takes care of the kids in the town, right? and six sees him and thinks he's santa"
> 
> me, literally having already finished this fic and having it sit in my drafts, typing furiously to noelle that this is currently happening:  
> "......yeah that would be really cute!")
> 
> come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/discoprince)! i talk a bunch about granblue and we're all here to have fun


End file.
